The golden morning light caught the sharp angles of his face—jaw tight, lashes long, lips curved into a faint smirk.Still humming.Still calm.
"I can make yours with cheese," he said without looking at me. "Unless you’re more of a scrambled person."
I sat up slowly, rubbing my eyes. "Omelet’s fine."
He nodded. "Good. You look like hell, by the way."
"Thanks," I muttered.
"Not an insult. Just an observation."
I glanced at the table. Coffee. Eggs. Toast. A small, folded napkin. Everything placed like he was expecting company.
"Do you always do this?" I asked.
He raised an eyebrow. "Cook?"
He slid the omelet in front of me without ceremony. "Eat up. I have to head out. College."
I blinked, still halfway between sleep and disbelief. He was already grabbing his keys from the counter.
"I’ll be back later," he added. "With Celeste. You can explain everything before she does something stupid."
He dropped a phone beside my plate. "Use this if you need to. Order whatever. Food, clothes, supplies. Here’s some cash."
A folded stack of bills landed on the table like a punchline.
The front door shut with a dull click.
I sat there stunned, toast in one hand, mouth half-open. My eyes drifted to the phone, then the cash, then the food.
My fingers curled around the fork automatically.
The first bite of omelet hit my tongue before I even realized I’d moved.
And whispered to no one, "What the hell just happened?"
Didn’t even answer the knock. By the time the maid came back with a second reminder, I was already out the window.
I took the side path. The one the drivers never used. Skipped breakfast. Avoided the usual farewell.
Normally, I’d at least see my mother before I left. Exchange a few words. Let her know I’d be back for dinner.
Not after last night.
Not after that argument.
She’d said I was being unfair. That I didn’t understand.
I told her she was blind.
Maybe we were both right. Maybe not. Either way, I didn’t have it in me to face her this morning.
And went straight to college.
The sun was too bright. The streets too loud. Everything felt like it was pressing in on me.
Because anything was better than staying in that house a minute longer.
< You really just left her like that?>
[Not even a good luck kiss. I’m disappointed.]
"She’ll be fine. She’s tougher than she looks."
< That woman tried to off herself yesterday.>
"And now she has a phone, food, and no bullets. I’d say we’re making progress."
[Franz, you absolute disaster man.]
I kicked open the stairwell door and descended two steps at a time. Keys spun around my finger. The cold morning wind hit like a slap when I reached the garage.
I threw on my hoodie, lit a cigarette, and fired up the engine.
The roads were mostly clear. Morning traffic hadn’t choked the city yet. Wind rolled through the helmet vents as I cut through alleys and streets, ignoring lights like they were suggestions.
By the time I reached the university, the sun had fully risen.Bright. Harsh. Unforgiving.
I parked, killed the engine, and pulled off my helmet.
Zane with tousled hair, slouched posture, hands buried deep in his pockets. No grin today. Just a vacant stare into nothing.
Iris while composed as always, arms crossed, gaze as sharp as glass. But there was tension in her neck. Her jaw clenched too tightly.
Lena unlike her usual self her shoulders folded in, green eyes ringed with red. Like she’d been crying .
Emphera her fists stuffed into her jacket sleeves, standing like she was daring someone to say something wrong.
She looked like someone had scooped her soul out and forgotten to fill the gap.No anger. No tears.Just hollow.
She was staring through the world, not at it.
I slowed my steps. The cigarette burned down between my fingers, smoke trailing into the breeze.
< Well... someone told her >
[This day’s gonna be a bitch.]